


And Then You

by captainskellington



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainskellington/pseuds/captainskellington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire's soulmate tattoo is a little misleading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then You

When Grantaire first saw his soulmate tattoo, he spent the rest of the night drinking himself into a stupor and crying against Joly's shoulder.

It had been a long day. He'd gotten rained on, been sworn at and had soup spilled over him during his shift at the restaurant, and on his way home he'd been followed up the street by a swarm of youths who somehow knew about the guy he'd brought home the other week and apparently thought derogatory remarks about sexuality were actually funny.

And then just as he got through his door and into relative safety, he felt a peculiar itching on his forearm.

Pushing his sleeve up to scratch at it absentmindedly, he froze when he spotted a fresh line of red ink trailing up towards his elbow. He squinted and turned his head a little, heart in his throat, and when he could make out what the delicate lettering said he felt like he was falling, like he was going to be sick.

_"You absolute asshole."_

Grantaire didn’t even notice he was on the ground. He was too busy thinking that even his soulmate would fucking hate him. It was just too much for him so he stumbled onto his feet and through to the kitchen, and he was already on his third bottle of wine when Joly finally got home.

Joly tried to assure him it would be a misunderstanding, he'd see, it would all turn out alright.

Grantaire refused to believe him. How could calling somebody an asshole possibly mean anything else?

He wouldn’t find out for another two months.  
  


***

 

Enjolras didn't even notice his tattoo until the week after it had appeared.

He felt a tingling sensation at the back of his neck and slapped at it, thinking he'd just been used as a landing pad for a bug of some kind, then carried on quite the thing with the rest of his day.

It wasn't until he was bent double and shaking leaves out of his hair after an unfortunate incident involving a protest, an overenthusiastic policeman and a hedge, and Courfeyrac nearly cricked his neck craning to try and make out the writing, that he found out.

"Enjolras," he said, slowly, squinting with his head at an alarming angle. "Why does the base of your neck say _'Charming'_?"

He demanded proof and Courfeyrac took a picture on his phone and sure enough there it was, in spiky black writing, almost hidden by his hair.

"Cool," he said with a shrug. "That’s got to be better than most people's first impression of me."

And then aforementioned overenthusiastic policeman reappeared and they both remembered that they were running away and promptly legged it.  
  


***

 

A year later and he was running again, and Courfeyrac was, again, involved.

“I _swear to God_ ," Enjolras shouted, tearing after his madly cackling friend as he darted through the crowded street. He could just see the crazy curls at the back of his head disappearing through a pub door, and he dived in after him.

The pub was mobbed. Enjolras stood there in the door for a moment to catch his breath, trying to figure out where he'd gone. His anger flared up again when he turned his head and a strand of freshly dyed red hair swung into his eyes. Courfeyrac had managed to dye the entire bottom half of his hair a deep red before he'd woken up.

He was going to _kill_ him.

Suddenly a movement caught his eye and he spotted a familiar mop of curls just to the side of the bar. He bristled and strode over, grabbing his arm to spin him around.

"You absolute _asshole_ ," he hissed through gritted teeth, and then froze. Because that... Was _not_ Courfeyrac. On closer inspection his hair was longer and more wavy than curly, and when he turned, his face - albeit somewhat warped by the expression of surprise he was wearing - was completely different from Courfeyrac's.

And he was completely and utterly _gorgeous._

He let go and raised his hands about to apologise, but before he could get past " _Shit, sorry, you're not--_ ", the guy spoke.

"Charming!" he managed to splutter midway through a laugh, eyes wide with amusement and what may have been the slightest hint of alarm.

Enjolras’ world froze and he choked on air, and realisation slowly dawned on the guy's face. He frowned.

"Wait," he said, eyes searching Enjolras' face desperately, voice slightly strangled.

"You-" Enjolras floundered. At a loss for words, he spun around and lifted his hair out of the way. He heard a sudden intake of breath behind him and a warm thrill ran down his spine as the guy reached out and touched the tattooed skin softly.

"You..." the guy caught him by the shoulder, gently turned him around again and slowly rolled up his sleeve. Enjolras noticed his hands were shaking. When he revealed the delicate red script in a familiar handwriting on his arm, Enjolras couldn't stop himself from grasping him around the wrist with one hand and running the fingers of the other along the lettering.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, looking up as the other man shivered. He was watching Enjolras with an expression of disbelief and wonder.

The guy grinned suddenly. "No, don't be, don't--" he laughed, a beautiful relieved sound that made Enjolras' heart flutter in his chest. "I thought - whoever you were - I thought you hated me!"

Enjolras shook his head, " _No,_ no, my friend just dyed my--" here he waved his hand at the newest addition to his hair. "-- when I was sleeping, and I was looking to get payback and he ran in here and from behind his hair looks just like yours and then... You." He finished breathlessly.

"I think it looks good. Remind me to thank him at some point," the guy looked elated as he held out his hand to Enjolras. "I'm Grantaire."

Enjolras took his hand with a delighted grin and shook it. "Enjolras."

There was a fleeting pause and he wasn't sure who moved first, but somebody gave their hand a tug and then Enjolras had his arms wound tightly around Grantaire, whose own arms clung just as firmly round Enjolras' waist.

"It's nice to meet you," Grantaire chuckled warmly, mouth just beside Enjolras' ear.

Enjolras beamed shamelessly as they pulled apart, his cheeks slightly flushed. A quiet cough came from the side and they turned to see a gangly man wearing an amused expression looking pointedly at Grantaire.

"I am so very tempted to say _'I told you so'_ , but if it's all the same to you I'd much rather you just bought the next round."

"Fuck off, Joly," Grantaire replied cheerfully. Enjolras realised with a start that they were still holding hands, and his grin increased tenfold as he tightened the hold.

Then there was an alarmed squeak as Courfeyrac tumbled out from behind a door marked " _NO ENTRY_ " with a terrified expression, which only intensified when he realised Enjolras was still there.

"Don't hurt me! Or at least- at least not the face, I'm too pretty for that," he raised his hands to protect himself only to falter and lower them again when Enjolras didn't immediately leap at him. He blinked. "...What?"

"I'll let you off just this once," Enjolras didn't even bother to try for a stern expression, just leaned heavily against Grantaire's side and smiled blissfully.

Courfeyrac took in the scene and his eyes widened. His eyes shot from their hands to Grantaire's tattoo to where Enjolras' hair was pushed over his shoulder, and then he squawked magnificently.

"Yes," Joly said. "My thoughts exactly. And since Grantaire's brains have turned to mush, I'll be the one to ask: would you two care to join us? We've more friends appearing soon, and between you and me-" he turned to Courfeyrac. "I don't really fancy being alone with either of them in their current state, do you?"

Courfeyrac looked at the way they were gazing soppily at each other and immediately offered to buy his new friend a drink.  
  


***

 

So, on the day Grantaire first met his soulmate, he spent the entire night merrily throwing back celebratory drinks with his arm around Enjolras, and nobody could get him to stop mentioning just how goddamn _happy_ he was-- not that anyone even wanted him to stop.

By the end of the night Enjolras was blushing and more than a little bit tipsy, and firmly anchored on Grantaire's lap with his arms wrapped around his waist as the chairs around them had gradually become taken up by their friends over the course of the evening.

He had also got his own back on Courfeyrac when a friend of Joly's - a familiar-looking tall man with messy hair and a handsome face - approached the table, by way of shouting "Hey, Courf, isn't that the hot med student you've been fawning over constantly for the last month?"

[Courfeyrac's tattoo read, " _I assume that's you?_ ", while Combeferre's read " _I'M NOT ME, NO_ ".]

All in all, it was a pretty great night.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Now I have a Destiel soulmate AU and an E/R soulmate AU.  
> Incredible. Just incredible.
> 
> In other news, this may be the shortest amount of time it's ever taken me to write something. I ran out of internet and just tappity tapped this out into my Twitter drafts in the most manic fashion imaginable.
> 
> Funnily enough, I am [cityelf](http://cityelf.tumblr.com), and I still want you people to TALK TO ME.


End file.
